Page 24 of Savage Protector

“Okay. Last I saw he was in the kitchen scrounging shortcake from Mrs McRae. If you hurry, there might be some left.”

“Most of us are headed back to Caernbro Ghyll this afternoon, Zee. We leave at two,” Jack informs me.

“I see.” I check my watch. I have just enough time to get this quick errand out of the way and see Leila safely back with Megan.

“Maybe Zayn could stay here bit longer,” Ethan suggests. “I’d welcome his help, just until we decide what to do with Miss Mansour.”

Leila starts beside me. I don’t blame her, Ethan can be intimidating, Jack even more so, and I should know. I sling my arm around her thin shoulders. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t mean that to be as threatening as it sounded. You’re quite safe here.”

“My apologies, Miss Mansour.” Ethan actually appears just a tiny bit contrite. “I prefer not to frighten innocent women, certainly not by accident. Zayn is right, you’re perfectly safe now, but it’s probably best if you don’t wander around too much on your own.

The warning is meant for me. The less our unexpected ‘guest’ sees, and the sooner we can send her on her way, the better.

“Right, boss. We’ll be getting on, then. The kitchen, you said.”

“That’s right. Nice to meet you, Miss Mansour.” He continues down the steps.

“We’ll see you back at Caernbro Ghyll when your mission here is done,” Jack says, following Ethan.

“Is he your boss, then?” Leila asks me as we enter the Great Hall. “Oh, wow. This place is awesome.”

I look around, imagining it through her eyes. I suppose it is pretty impressive. Much of the original medieval architecture is still very much in evidence. The huge open fireplace, the high, arched windows, now triple glazed but otherwise unchanged. The ancient wall lamps still remain, but illumination is now provided by subtle lighting set into the walls and floors. The same with the heating, though I have seen the enormous fire in full blaze in the winter.

The tapestries on the walls seem original, but I’m not sure. I wouldn’t be surprised, though. Ethan has an eye for historical accuracy, and all his alterations have been sympathetic to the original structure.

The hall is dominated by the massive oak table and chairs in the centre. The huge carver at the head is where Ethan usually sits when the hall is used for anything formal, though most meetings take place in the modern conference room adjoining his office.

The most regular use of the hall nowadays in as a play area for the many children who live here. The climate in the Outer Hebrides is often less than conducive to outdoor play, so on those days the table and chairs will be shoved to one side to make way for a game of cricket, or a bike track for the little ones. A tricycle and a kids’ scooter have been abandoned in one corner, and a pair of basketball hoops are propped against the fireplace.

The children themselves are at school right now, but in a few hours’ time this room could be bedlam. The younger children, the under-fives, tend to spend their time upstairs in the playroom where they are cared for by Magda and Faith. Magda is one of our pilots who doubles as a nanny, and Faith is Aaron’s mother-in-law. She came to Caraksay with her daughter and grandson when Aaron moved his family here. They have since gone back to the mainland, but Faith chose to stay.

I don’t tell Leila any of this. Instead, I hustle her through and down the stone corridor to the kitchen at the back. There we do indeed find Frankie guzzling a plate of home-made shortcake while Mrs McRae busies herself at the sink.

She turns around when we enter. “Well, who d’we have here, then?” She wipes her hands on her apron, smiling.

“This is Leila,” I explain. “We were hoping to find Frankie.”

“Ah, well, ye’ve found ’im, then, and no’ before time. Take ’im away wi’ ye, afore he eats me out o’ house ’n home.”

“That’s the plan, Mrs McRae. Frankie, you were supposed to be up in your den.”

“Aye, well, I got peckish.” He gets to his feet and sweeps the crumbs from the front of his T-shirt. “What is it you want?”

“I’ll explain as we go.”

I’m keen to get on, but Mrs McRae has other ideas, as does Leila, it seems.

“Mrs McRae? You made my lunch today.”

“I did, lass. Was it good for ye? Zayn told me tae stick tae veggie, until we kenned whether ye’d eat meat or no’.”

“Well, thank you. Both of you. It was wonderful. I do like meat, though, but not pork.”

“Aye. He’ll nae touch the stuff neither.” She jerks her thumb in my direction. “I were thinkin’ a nice lamb masala for later. Ye’ll take some o’ these cookies wi’ ye, will ye?”

“We’re fine, Mrs McRae,” I begin, only to be overruled by Leila and Frankie in unison.

“We’d love some,” she says.

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